


Boys of Summer

by magenta



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Frottage, Inspired by Music, M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magenta/pseuds/magenta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn meets Harry in the summer of ‘67. Harry spins Zayn’s world on its axis, then tears it all apart. Harry’s a right place, right time kind of boy. But is that the kind of boy Zayn needs?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys of Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 1D Big Bang: Round Two.
> 
> Betaed by [janescott](http://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott), who also is the source of the inspiration. It all started with Don Henley's Boys of Summer, and it just spiraled from there. Music played a huge part in this story, and I'm so glad that my wonderful artist [M](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaidparades) created such a gorgeous mix! Definitely listen to it, it fits the story so well!
> 
> You can find the mix [here](http://mermaidparades.tumblr.com/post/74249940082/say-the-word-stay-with-you-a-mix-inspired)!

The sun was hot, beating down harshly against the back of Zayn’s neck as he hunched over his notebook. He squinted against the brightness, reading over his messily scrawled words again, pulling his lower lip between his teeth and worrying at it. He was just starting to scribble out the last line he’d written when something inside him clicked, and he let out an audible gasp as his hand flew over the page, the words flowing out like water.

 

“Zayn! Are you sure you don’t want to come in? It’s so nice out here!” Niall flopped into the waves, popping up with a hopeful smile on his face, the water plastering his blond hair dark against his head.

 

Zayn shook his head, closing his book around his pen. “No thanks, mate. I’m fine here.”

 

Niall scoffed, pushing his hair back from his face. “Only you would come to the beach in head to toe black and melt in the sun. Your loss.”

 

Zayn smiled as Niall dove back under the waves, looking like he was having plenty of fun all on his own. He watched for a minute, then flipped his notebook back open and frowned down at his work. He felt like he’d been working on the same thing for ages, getting rushes of inspiration that soon dried up, making him despise everything he’d written. He wasn’t even sure what it was supposed to be anymore, a poem or a story or something else entirely. His notebook was full of pages that were almost completely blacked out, snatches of lines or even single words all that had made the cut during one of Zayn’s attacks. The book itself dented and dinged at the edges from all the times he’d tossed it against the brick walls of his apartment.

 

“You look like you could use some company,” a warm, friendly voice said above Zayn, blocking out the sun.

 

“I don’t think I need-” Zayn looked up, and once his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw a tall boy, all tan and broad shoulders grinning down at him. He had a wild mass of curly hair swirling around his head, and Zayn was pretty sure there were actual flowers stuck into it. He was wearing a worn white shirt, open nearly to his navel, and his threadbare jeans were rolled up to his knees, his bare feet caked with sand. 

 

“I’m Harry. Can I sit?” He was already on the ground before Zayn could speak, sitting so close Zayn could feel the heat of his body even with the sun beating down on them. “Are you a writer then?” He gestured towards the book in Zayn’s hand, and Zayn shrugged.

 

“Sort of.” Zayn closed his book again, tucking it safely against his body. Harry nudged him with his shoulder until Zayn looked up at him, and Zayn was struck by the open easiness of Harry’s smile, the friendly crinkles around his eyes.

 

“Don’t worry, mate, you’ll read it to me when you’re ready.” He sounded so certain when he spoke that Zayn just nodded, a little bewildered. “You here with him?” Harry jutted his chin towards the water where Niall was alternately floating on his back in the waves and diving underneath the water, popping up with a whoop. Zayn couldn’t help but grin a little; he’d never known anyone who had fun as easily as Niall.

 

He nodded, tucking his notebook into his bag. “My friend, Niall. He dragged me here today, says I spend too much time in my crap apartment or at the coffee place where I work.” Zayn wasn’t entirely sure why he was telling Harry all of this, but there was just something about him. “I’m Zayn, by the way.”

 

Harry grinned, his whole face brightening even more. “See? You’ve already told me your name, you’ll be reading me whatever it is you’re writing in no time.” He leaned over, nudging Zayn with his shoulder before laying down, closing his eyes and stretching his long limbs out over the sand. “Come on, let’s soak up some sun before it goes down.:

 

Zayn watched as Harry’s long fingers opened the last few buttons on his shirt, pushing it open to reveal what looked like miles of already sun-browned skin. He felt like he was staring, watching for just a little too long, but then Harry cracked open one eye and grinned, reaching up to grab Zayn’s shoulder. He pulled him down and Zayn went willingly, settling back into the hot sand.

 

Their arms were pressed together, right down to where Zayn could feel the back of Harry’s hand against his, could feel the muscles working as Harry sifted the sand through his fingers. They lay there quietly, and Zayn had to admit the sun did feel good, the heat relaxing his muscles until he let himself sink back into the sand, closing his eyes and just enjoying it.

 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time Niall came galloping out of the water, but the sun had started to drop in the sky, and the air was just a bit cooler. “Who’s this then?”

 

Zayn sat up, sand clinging to his clothes and hair. He was about to introduce Harry, but Harry was already on his feet, sticking a hand out towards Niall.

 

“I’m Harry, just been keeping Zayn company. You must be Niall.”

 

Niall took Harry’s hand and shook it with a smile, somehow managing to shoot Zayn a mildly confused look at the same time. “Well Harry, you’ll have to tell me how to managed to get him to put his notebook away and look like he was almost enjoying himself.”

 

Harry winked down at Zayn and pushed his hair back from his face, a few flowers fluttering to the ground. “That’s me and Zayn’s secret for now, mate.. He nudged Zayn’s thigh with his toe, giving him a smile. “Thanks for the company, I’ll see you around.”

 

Zayn watched as Harry turned and walked down the beach, feeling Niall sit down heavily beside him.

 

“You know him?”

 

Zayn shook his head, turning to look at Niall. “No, he just came and sat down.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Kind of acted like we were best mates though.”

 

Niall laughed, scrubbing a towel over his wet hair. “He seemed interesting for sure.” He hopped to his feet, holding a hand out for Zayn. “Come on, let’s go grab some dinner. I’m starving.”

 

Zayn smiled and let Niall hoist him to his feet, grabbing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He spared one last glance down the beach, wondering if he’d ever see Harry again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had gotten under his skin like that, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

 

Zayn had mostly forgotten about that day at the beach, lost in long days working at the coffee shop and even longer nights hunched over his notebook, a bottle of whiskey keeping him company. A few weeks had passed, and Zayn had lost his inspiration again, his late nights revolving much more around whiskey than writing. It was early one morning after one of those very late nights, Zayn’s eyes ringed with deep purple circles as he tried not to burn himself with the coffee maker that he looked up and did a double take.

 

“Zayn, hi!” Harry’s eyes were bright, too bright for how Zayn felt, and Zayn almost squinted like Harry was actually the sun. “I finally found you!”

 

“Found me?” Zayn rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and blinked, like maybe Harry was a figment of his imagination. 

 

Harry nodded, setting down the heavy duffel bag he was carrying on the floor. “You said you worked at a coffee shop, so I’ve been trying a new place every day. Looks like I finally got lucky today.” He shrugged his shoulders and grinned, leaning against the tall pastry case next to Zayn’s counter.

 

“Well, you found me.” Zayn smiled, a bit dimmer than Harry’s grin, but he felt it reach his eyes. “Can I get you anything?”

 

Harry shook his head, raking a hand through the curly mess of hair on his head. “No thanks, I don’t actually have any money. Just came to say hi. So, hi.”

 

Zayn cocked his head, more than a little bemused. “Hi.” He thought for a second, just taking in the easy way Harry leaned against the case. “Actually, do you want a coffee on the house? Or some fruit? No one ever buys the fruit so we usually end up throwing it away.” He pushed the basket across the counter at Harry whose eyes lit up as he reached for a banana.

 

“I’m not going to get you in trouble?” He was already peeling the banana, and Zayn would be lying if he said he was unaffected by watching Harry eat the fruit.

 

Zayn shook his head, smiling. “Not even a little bit. The guy who runs this place is usually pretty stoned, I doubt he’ll notice a missing banana.”

 

Harry grinned around the banana, his mouth full as he ate nearly the whole thing in one bite. “So, do you want to come to the beach with me tonight? I figured maybe the beach at night is more your speed.”

 

Zayn was taken aback, but he found himself nodding before he could really think about it. “Um, sure. Yeah.” 

 

“Great, meet me at 10 by that big rock? Thanks for the banana!” Harry tossed the empty peel in the trash can and waved as he left the coffee shop, leaving Zayn blinking and confused. This was starting to feel like a pattern with Harry, but Zayn was beginning to think maybe he didn’t mind it so much.

 

The day crawled by as slowly as it always did, with Zayn pouring cup after cup of coffee for people who barely looked at him, scribbling in his notebook whenever he had a spare minute. It was near the end of his shift when Niall came bouncing through the door, guitar slung over his back and a grin on his face.

 

“Hey, I’ve got a gig tonight at that cool bar down the street. You wanna grab dinner when you’re done and come cheer me on?” He leaned over the counter, reaching out to grab Zayn’s apron and pull him closer. “Maybe you could even sing with me?”

 

Zayn shook his head. “Nah, mate, I’m busy.”

 

“Busy?” Niall scoffed. “Draining another bottle of whiskey alone isn’t busy.”

 

Zayn would have bristled if that hadn’t been how he’d been spending more nights than not lately. “I’m not going to be alone.” He paused, looking down at the very clean spot on the counter he was still wiping. “I’m going to the beach. With Harry.”

 

Niall wrinkled up his face in thought for a moment. “Harry? That guy from the beach?” 

 

Zayn nodded. “Yeah. Showed up here today and asked. I said yes before I could think about it.”

 

Niall laughed and slapped his hand against the counter. “I’m always saying you spend too much time in your own head, it’ll be good for you.” He winked cartoonishly and licked his lips as he walked backwards towards the door. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

 

“There’s nothing you wouldn’t do!” Zayn called after Niall, grinning despite himself.

 

“Exactly mate, exactly!” Niall paused at the door, his face getting as serious as it ever did. “Seriously though, be careful, yeah?” Zayn nodded that he would, because he was always careful. Sometimes too careful, really. The grin was back on Niall’s face then, and he nearly leapt out the door, leaving Zayn laughing softly.

 

The bell on the door chimed as it shut behind Niall, and Zayn watched him skip past the big front window waving and blowing big kisses. Zayn waved back and then turned to the clock, sighing. The last hour always went the slowest, but at least Zayn was locking up the shop himself tonight, and he could be out the door as soon as the clock struck 9. He took one more look at the clock and turned back to his work, ticking through the tasks on his mental closing to-do list one at a time, humming under his breath as he did.

 

It was 9pm on the dot when Zayn turned his key in the lock, closing the coffee shop behind him. He was glad that he lived right upstairs, since he just had enough time to hop in the shower before he needed to head to the beach. The water coming out of his shower head wasn’t exactly hot, but it was still warm outside, so he didn’t mind so much as he dug his fingers into his hair, washing the scent of stale coffee down the drain. He lingered a bit longer than usual in front of his pile of clothes, before finally telling himself he was being stupid, and picking a shirt and a pair of jeans out of the mound of black on the floor.

 

He lit a cigarette as he headed down the street, sucking the smoke deep into his lungs. The walk to the beach wasn’t long, but it gave him plenty of time to think, and plenty of opportunities to nearly turn around and head home. He was nearly to the end of his second cigarette when he finally got close enough to the beach to see Harry. He was leaning against the big rock, the streetlight above him illuminating him just enough. As soon as he saw Zayn he straightened up and waved, still carrying the same large bag over his shoulder he’d had that morning.

 

“You came! Wasn’t sure if you would.” Harry smiled at him, gesturing towards the beach. “Wanna go for a walk?”

 

Zayn nodded, following Harry’s lead. “Sure.” 

 

They walked a fair way down the beach in silence, just the sound of the gentle waves and the sand under their feet. Zayn looked up at the moon and felt his fingers itching for a pen. It was really was beautiful at night.

 

They came to an area set back from the water and nearly hidden by small hills, the sand butting up against the grass further back. They kicked aside the cans and bottles left behind by the last people to find their secluded spot and settled down, the sand cool underneath them. Harry immediately tugged off his worn boots and socks and dug his feet into the sand, closing his eyes and sighing at the feeling. Zayn watched him with a half-smile on his lips, and then cursed softly under his breath, pulling off his own shoes.

 

The sand really did feel wonderful, cool and almost damp between his toes as he wiggled them down deeper.

 

“Feels good, yeah?” Zayn looked over at Harry who was lounging back in the sand like he’d never sat somewhere more comfortable and nodded.

 

“It does. I don’t know why I never come here, especially at night.” He looked out towards the water, the moon just bright enough for him to be able to make out the crests of the waves. “It’s beautiful.”

 

“I thought you’d like it. Maybe it’ll help with whatever you’re writing.” Harry rolled onto his side, resting his head against his palm. “Tell me about yourself, Mr. Zayn...well, why don’t you start with your last name?”

 

Zayn smiled, and turned so he was facing Harry. “Malik, Zayn Malik. And there’s not much to tell.” He told Harry about his parents, his sisters, his life growing up in a pretty small town back in England. It hadn’t been the easiest, wanting to do nothing more than write stories and poetry, but his family loved him, and they were the only thing he missed since he moved to the city. He called them whenever he had the chance, and his mom sent him letters with pictures, but he’d never told anyone how much it killed him to miss seeing his sisters grow up. Never told anyone until Harry, anyways, Harry with his wide open face, listening intently to every word coming out of Zayn’s mouth without a hint of irony.

 

“So, what about you then? You seem like you’ve got a story,” Zayn asked Harry when he’d finished.

 

Harry shrugged. “Not as much as you think. I have a mum and sister who love me, and one day I just decided to chuck everything I own in this bag and see the world. Or as much of the world as I can. It’s working out alright so far.” He grinned, and Zayn glanced down briefly at his feet, still buried in the sand.

 

“Where are you staying then? Do you work?”

 

“I stay a lot of places. Wherever someone will have me. I’ve been sleeping on a lot of couches lately.” He paused, digging into the sand and letting it sift through his fingers. “I work here and there, odd jobs mostly. Sometimes I sing, if I can find a place that’ll let me.”

 

Zayn perked up, wrapping his arms around his knees. “You sing? My friend Niall, he does too, plays the guitar. He plays most weekends at a few places near here. You could sing with him. He’s always trying to get me to join him...”

 

Harry laughed softly, reaching out to just barely brush his fingers against Zayn’s calf. “Niall tries to get you to do a lot, doesn’t he? How’d you meet?”

 

“He came into the coffee shop, just started chatting and somehow we were best mates. Still not sure exactly how it happened.” Zayn pushed a hand through his hair and smiled at the memory. “He’s pretty persistent.”

 

“Seems like people are drawn to you.” Harry was still looking up at Zayn, but the laughter in his eyes was beginning to be replaced by something else. His fingers slid lower down Zayn’s leg and snuck up under the hem of his jeans. Zayn felt his heart start beating a little faster, and he reached down for Harry’s hand. 

 

Harry started to apologize and pull his hand away, but Zayn twined their fingers together and shifted until he could lay down in the sand next to Harry. They were quiet then, just the sound of their breathing and the sand beneath them shifting as they moved as close together as they could get.

 

Zayn wasn’t sure how long they lay like that, but eventually the heat of Harry’s body and the feeling of his fingers tracing patterns over the back of Zayn’s hand was too much. He pushed himself up onto one elbow, reluctantly taking his hand from Harry’s and looking down at him, just able to make out his face in the moonlight. He lifted a hand and pushed an errant curl back from Harry’s face.

 

“I want to kiss you.” Zayn surprised even himself by saying it out loud, the urge striking him so suddenly it felt like a punch.

 

Harry just grinned up at him, eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

Zayn bent forward, and for a moment he couldn’t help but think just how ridiculous this moment was, having his first kiss with a stranger on a moonlit beach, but then his lips were on Harry’s and there wasn’t room in his brain for that thought anymore. He could only think of how Harry’s lips felt underneath his, dry and a little chapped and perfect, and of the feeling of Harry’s arm wrapping around him and pulling him close, Harry’s big hand splaying across his lower back. 

 

It felt wonderful and a bit dangerous, Harry making soft noises underneath him, out here where anyone could see, despite the late hour. Zayn leaned in even closer, feeling the press of Harry’s broad chest beneath him, bringing a hand up to fist in Harry’s hair. He tugged just hard enough on Harry’s hair to get him to tip his head back, allowing Zayn to deepen the kiss until the noises Harry was making weren’t so soft anymore.

 

Harry’s hands were tugging on Zayn’s shirt, dragging it up enough that he could slide his hands underneath it, his palms feeling burning hot against Zayn’s back. Zayn wanted to push back into the touch and to climb on top of Harry and press down against him, to push open his shirt and feel Harry’s skin against his own. He dragged his mouth away from Harry’s, kissing a messy path down his throat while he caught his breath. When he looked down at Harry, the moon was reflecting wildly in his eyes, and Zayn could see Harry’s mouth was kiss-swollen, and he had to swallow a moan.

 

“We can’t...not here.” Zayn raked a hand through his hair, willing his heart to slow down.

 

Harry nodded, sliding his hand slowly down Zayn’s back to rest on his hips. “Your apartment?” His voice was rough and deep, and it took every ounce of self-control Zayn had to pull away from Harry instead of leaning back in.

 

“Yeah, my apartment.” Zayn’s hands were shaking as he pulled on his socks and shoes, and he left them untied, standing to brush the sand from his clothes as Harry struggled back into his boots. He offered Harry a hand, and Harry took it, letting Zayn help him to his feet, neither of them the steadiest they’d ever been in that moment.

 

As much as Zayn had enjoyed the beauty of the beach on the walk to their spot, he didn’t notice anything but the path in front of them as they walked back to the road. They walked quickly towards Zayn’s apartment, close enough that the backs of their hands brushed together every few steps. Zayn’s fingers itched to reach out for Harry’s, but every time they walked under a streetlight he had to fight the urge to snatch his hand away from Harry’s, remembering Niall’s warning to be careful. 

 

Harry chattered as they walked, asking Zayn about that shop and this building, pointing out things he found especially interesting. Zayn had lived in this neighbourhood for so long he’d stopped noticing anything, walking with his head down and his hands shoved in his pockets, just getting from point A to point B. It was nice to see it through Harry’s eyes, to remember how charming he’d found the old buildings when he’d first moved in, and the grin on Harry’s face was infectious.

 

Zayn fumbled for his keys when they finally got to his apartment, and gestured for Harry to head up the stairs as he locked the door behind him. The apartment wasn’t much, more or less just one big room except for the bathroom, exposed bricks peeking through peeling drywall, clothes and books and other things scattered all over the worn wood floor.

 

“Wow, this is amazing.” Harry’s voice was full of something approaching actual wonder as Zayn flicked on the weak overhead light, like he’d walked into a mansion and not a room above a coffee shop.

 

Zayn shrugged, kicking off his shoes and tossing them into the pile. “It’s home.”

 

Harry turned to face Zayn with a huge grin on his face. “That’s why it’s amazing. I can see you everywhere in here.”

 

Zayn didn’t know what to say to that, so he headed to the small kitchenette. “Did you want a drink? You can put on a record if you want.” He gestured to the record player on the bookshelf, and the crates of records lining the wall nearby.

 

“Sure, whatever you’ve got is fine.” Harry kicked off his boots and crouched down by the records, rifling through them. Every few seconds he’d stop and make a soft, excited sound. He held up Zayn’s still new copy of Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, fingers just barely touching the edges like it was something precious. “You have amazing records, I haven’t been able to buy records in ages.”

 

Zayn settled down next to Harry, handing him a beer. “It’s mostly thanks to Niall. He works at a record store so I get a good deal, especially on the 45s.” He took a long swallow of his beer, his throat feeling dry. “Have you heard this one yet? I just got it.”

 

He slid Procol Harum’s A Whiter Shade of Pale out of its sleeve and set it on the turntable, flicking it on. He set the needle gently on the record and closed his eyes. The song was still pretty new, but it was already on of his favourites. Beside him, he felt Harry settle, leaning over just enough so that their shoulders brushed together. Zayn didn’t think he was breathing, the slow, easy melody of the song seeping into him.

 

He heard Harry set down his bottle and opened his eyes, watching as Harry moved even closer, pushing gently on Zayn’s shoulder till they were both laying down. “This is beautiful, Zayn.” Harry’s hand was big where he spread it open on Zayn’s chest, and Zayn could feel his heart hammering against the inside of his ribs. Harry’s eyes twinkled and his lips quirked up into a little grin. “I don’t just mean the song you know.”

 

Zayn groaned, rolling his eyes even as he smiled. “You’re the worst.” 

 

Harry shrugged, totally unselfconscious. “It’s true though.” Before Zayn could respond again Harry bent down and pressed their lips together, and Zayn reached up to again tangle his hand in Harry’s messy hair, tugging just enough to make Harry sigh into his mouth.

 

The floor was hard underneath Zayn’s back as Harry slid on top of him, his hips pressing down against Zayn’s. Zayn moaned at the feeling and rolled up into it, sliding his hands down to Harry’s broad shoulders, letting himself give over to it, to just feel it. Harry was warm and heavy on top of him, and Zayn could already feel him growing hard against his hip, Harry making soft noises in the back of his throat every time he rocked his hips against Zayn’s.

 

Harry pulled back just long enough to pull his shirt over his head, and Zayn’s mouth went a bit dry again at the sight of all that tanned skin in front of him. He let Harry tug his own shirt off, sitting up when it got caught under his back. He took advantage of the shift to push Harry over on his back, throwing a leg over his waist to straddle him. He bent to capture Harry’s lips in a brief, filthy kiss before moving away, kissing a hot path down Harry’s throat, scraping his teeth over Harry’s pulse. Harry smelled so good, like sun and sweat and sand and Zayn was drinking it in, pressing his nose against Harry’s skin like he could just soak it up.

 

He ran his hands over Harry’s chest, broad and strong without being overly muscled, his fingers teasing over Harry’s nipples while his mouth closed around his collarbone, sucking just enough to make Harry gasp. Harry’s hands roamed over Zayn’s back, tracing the bumps of his spine, his nails scratching lightly over Zayn’s skin as Zayn rocked their hips together, feeling the heat even through two layers of denim. ayn moved lower, closing his lips around one of Harry’s nipple, flicking his tongue over the hard peak, kissing across Harry’s chest to give the same treatment to the other.

 

Harry was panting, breathless, even as he chuckled. “You missed a few,” he said as Zayn pulled away from his nipple. He gestured to his chest and Zayn’s eyes widened as he laughed.

 

“You would have four nipples.” He was already bending down to press quick kisses to the smaller nipples, smiling against Harry’s skin even as he moved lower still, swiping his tongue over the peaks of Harry’s hip bones. Harry’s lips arched up at the touch, and he started to apologized before Zayn wrapped his hands around Harry’s hips, pressing them into the floor. He raised his eyebrows in a question, and when Harry nodded, Zayn worked open Harry’s belt and fly, tugging his tight jeans down over his hips, the two of them working together until Zayn could fling them off to the side to join one of Zayn’s own piles of discarded clothing.

 

Zayn wasn’t the least bit surprised to find that Harry wasn’t wearing anything underneath his jeans, or that the tanned skin of his chest was uninterrupted all the way to his feet. He smiled to himself as he ran his hands up and down Harry’s thighs, pushing them open so he could settle in between them. Zayn distantly noticed that the song had long since ended, the record player just making a scratchy empty sound as the 45 spun. He thought about turning it off, but the thought of moving even one inch away from Harry right now was actually painful.

 

He bent forward and laved his tongue over Harry’s hipbone again, scraping his teeth over the bone as he wrapped his hand around Harry’s length. Harry arched and moaned beneath him, and Zayn used his other hand to pin Harry’s hips to the floor, his stomach flipping at the way Harry’s throat worked as he swallowed, and the way the muscles in his stomach twitched when Zayn thumbed over the head of his dick. He stroked it a few more times, feeling the weight of it in his hand before he bent forward and swept his tongue over the tip, the bitter-salt flavour of Harry filling his mouth.

 

It had been awhile, longer than he’d want to admit but it came back to him in an instant. He loved the way Harry sighed as he slid his mouth down Harry’s cock, slow and easy, and the way Harry’s breath caught in his throat when Zayn swirled his tongue around the head, dipping just into the slit. He sucked at the head, stroking his hand over the length until Harry was panting, his hips struggling to push up into Zayn’s mouth despite Zayn’s firm hand on his hip.

 

“Oh God, Zayn, fuck.” Harry’s voice was ragged already, flush spreading down his chest. He reached down to run his fingers through Zayn’s hair, nails scraping over the short hair in the back before tangling in the longer hair beginning to droop over Zayn’s eyes. He tugged just hard enough to make Zayn feel it, and Zayn groaned, taking Harry deeper into his mouth.

 

Harry’s grip tightened almost painfully on Zayn’s hair for a moment and he groaned, deep and long and Zayn could feel the rumbling of it. “Zayn, god, you have to stop.” He tugged gently on Zayn’s hair until Zayn’s mouth left Harry’s cock with a pop.

 

Zayn sat back on his heels, dragging in deep breaths as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m...was that alright?”

 

Harry sat up and wrapped his long fingers around the back of Zayn’s neck, pulling him in for a filthy kiss. “It was better than alright,” he said as he pulled away. “More than alright, and I want. I didn’t want to come like that.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Zayn let Harry pull him closer, Harry’s hands sliding down his back to push just under the waistband of the jeans Zayn was still wearing. Something about Harry made Zayn feel bold, and he leaned in and bit down on Harry’s earlobe, keeping his mouth close when he spoke.“How do you want to come?” 

 

Harry’s hands slid out of Zayn’s jeans and cupped his ass through the fabric, his fingers digging in until Zayn pushed back against them. “Inside you.” 

 

Zayn shivered at how matter-of-fact Harry’s voice was, how honest, his dick growing almost painfully hard in his jeans. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead, hadn’t imagined it would go that far tonight, but now his whole body was aching for it. He nodded, pressing his hot face briefly against Harry’s neck and breathing in another lungful of his addicting scent. “But not here. If we’re going to do that, we’re not going to  
do it on my floor.” 

 

He stood on shaky legs, and dragged Harry to his feet, pulling him the short distance to the low bed. Zayn shimmied out of his jeans and briefs, and kicked them across the floor, stepping close and pulling Harry’s mouth down for a brief kiss. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

 

Zayn’s bathroom was a mess, towels and clothes flung over the shower rod and piled on the floor, but he just kicked them aside and wrenched open the medicine cabinet. He had to dig all the way to the back for what he was looking for, but eventually his fingers closed around the little tub he hadn’t gone looking for in ages. His stomach fluttered again as he hurried back to the bed, the tub clutched in his hand, imagining Harry’s fingers and then more glistening and sliding deep inside him.

 

Harry was sprawled across Zayn’s bed looking like he owned it, his long limbs taking up so much space. He grinned when Zayn got near and shifted over, patting the spot beside him. Zayn tossed him the tub and climbed onto the bed, settling onto his back. Harry stroked a gentle hand down Zayn’s chest, his fingers playing over Zayn’s nipples and the bumps of his ribs, sliding down past Zayn’s straining cock to push his thighs wide open. Zayn’s breathing was already ragged as Harry pried the lid off the greasy lube, slicking his fingers and bringing them between Zayn’s spread thighs, looking up at Zayn with a question.

 

“Ready?”

 

Zayn let out a shaky breath and nodded. Harry wasn’t even touching him yet but he could feel the heat of his fingers so close and it was enough to have Zayn canting his hips up, begging for it. 

 

Harry’s brow wrinkled in concentration that would be adorable in any other situation as he circled his fingers around Zayn’s hole, pressing two in slow and easy. Zayn forgot how to breath, Harry’s fingers sliding deep into him, the knobs of his knuckles pressing against every place that made Zayn moan. It ached, the ache of muscles stretching in ways they hadn’t in so long, but it felt so good and Zayn itched for more, pushing his hips against Harry’s fingers and begging between panting breaths for _harder, faster, more._

 

When Harry obliged, pushing in a third long finger, Zayn groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his head back into the pillow. His cock was rock hard, curving up against his belly, smearing wetness on the skin and he wanted to badly to wrap his hand around himself and stroke, but he knew that he’d be gone with just one touch. Instead, he reached down and pushed at Harry’s arm weakly, whining when Harry reluctantly slid his fingers out of him. “Now. Just...now.”

 

Harry nodded, his eyes looking wild as he wrapped his still slick hand around his dick, stroking just enough to spread the lube. “Can we...on your knees?”

 

Zayn swallowed, even though his mouth was dry and turned over, Harry immediately wrapped one hands around Zayn’s hip. He ran the other down Zayn’s spine, hitting the ticklish spot just at the base, making Zayn arch his back and shiver. He shivered for a different reason when he felt Harry’s dick pressing against his hole, not pushing in yet, just a tease of what was to come. He was about to beg, the words right on the tip of his tongue but then Harry was pressing in, slow and insistent, and Zayn couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but arch into it, dropping his head and moaning long and low.

 

Harry’s grip on Zayn’s hip was bruisingly tight, and Zayn could hear him dragging in a shaky breath when he bottomed out. Zayn felt stretched impossibly wide, his muscles protesting and begging for more all at once. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest he could hear it in his ears, the muscles in his arms beginning to shake when Harry finally started to move inside him. He stayed deep at first, only pulling back a little before pressing back in, and Zayn fought to drag air into his lungs between moans.

 

He dropped to his elbows, arching his back like a bow, pressing his hot face into the pillows as Harry gasped, the change in angle making him slide that much deeper. Harry started sliding out a little further on each stroke until just the head of him was still inside before he pushed back in, making Zayn take the whole length every time. He still had one hand wrapped tight around Zayn’s hip but the other was roaming wherever it could reach on Zayn’s body, sliding down his spine, up his side, around to rest on his chest and feel Zayn’s heart beating.

 

Harry bent over as far as he could, stilling his hips briefly, pressing his lips to Zayn’s ear while he was buried as deep inside as he could get. “You’re so beautiful, do you know that?”

 

Zayn tried to answer, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a soft whimper. He groped a hand blindly backwards, grabbing for Harry’s hand where it gripped his hip, twining their fingers together as best he could and holding on tight. 

 

Harry’s hand spread out wide on his chest and Zayn pressed into the touch a little as Harry spoke again, his breath tickling Zayn’s ear. “Move with me, I want to try something.” 

 

Zayn went willingly as Harry pulled him backwards, shifting the two of them until Harry was on his knees and Zayn was sitting in Harry’s lap. They sat unmoving for a long moment, just getting used to the change in position and Zayn said a silent prayer of thanks to gravity. Harry was so deep in him now that Zayn was sure he’d feel it forever, and he realized he desperately wanted that. He circled his hips a little, just enough to make Harry curse under his breath and tighten his grip on Zayn’s hip. Harry’s other hand was high on Zayn’s chest, fingers and thumb pressing nearly against Zayn’s throat, and Zayn imagined what it would feel like if Harry moved his hand just enough to make Zayn have to work to drag in each breath.

 

They couldn’t move a lot in this position, Harry fucking in and out in shallow strokes, but it was more than enough. Zayn’s dick was hard against his belly, and when Harry finally wrapped a hand around it, thumbing over the head, Zayn groaned, letting his head fall back against Harry’s shoulder. He was totally at Harry’s mercy, Harry’s hand on his chest holding him up, his dick inside him and his fingers stroking Zayn’s cock pushing him closer and closer to the edge. It felt so good to finally let go, to stop thinking and just let someone take care of him, the heat burning low in his belly spreading through his limbs and making him sink back against Harry even more.

 

“Zayn, I’m close, are you...” Harry was panting against Zayn’s ear, his voice so ragged and _hot_ that Zayn’s dick jumped in Harry’s hand, almost enough to get him there.

 

Zayn nodded, his head still lolled back against Harry’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, Harry, I’m there.”

 

Harry groaned, tightening his fist around Zayn’s dick and stroking him faster, pre-come slicking his strokes. He pushed up into Zayn harder, short, sharp thrusts that forced Zayn’s voice out of him in breathy gasps. His whole body felt electric, his limbs thrumming as his whole world narrowed until all he could focus on was Harry’s hand around him and his cock inside him, everything else whiting out. It was Harry’s mouth against his ear that sent him flying over the edge, his teeth scraping along his ear lobe, his voice whispering filthy things that Zayn knew he wasn’t going to remember but he already knew he wanted to hear again. 

 

His body arched sharply away from Harry’s when he came, spilling hot and wet over Harry’s fist, his muscles clamping down on Harry’s cock, pulling something that sounded like a roar from Harry’s throat. He slumped back against Harry, whole body limp even as his limbs tingled. Harry was still buried in him, fingers digging into his chest and belly as his own orgasm swept over him, spilling deep inside Zayn, his hot release slicking his last few strokes. Zayn felt the moment Harry’s muscles relaxed just like his own, the two of them barely holding each other up as they breathed heavily, heart rates slowing down.

 

It had been so long that Zayn had forgotten just how messy sex could be, his whole body covered with sweat, and Harry’s release starting to drip from him after Harry gently pulled out, guiding them both until they were laying down on the bed. But Zayn found he didn’t care, smiling an exhausted smile as Harry sprawled out next to him, his hand spread out low on his own belly, whole body flushed red.

 

“What?” Harry grinned at him, eyes still sparkling even though he was clearly exhausted too, his limbs sinking deep into Zayn’s bed.

 

Zayn shook his head, pushing his sweaty hair back from his face. “Nothing, just. That was nice.”

 

Harry laughed, lifting up onto one elbow and pushing Zayn back into the pillows.“I do try to be nice.” He hovered over Zayn for a moment before leaning down to kiss him soundly. Zayn wanted to tell him that it was really more than nice, but then Harry’s tongue slid between his lips, his hand tipping Zayn’s head up to kiss him deeper, and Zayn figured, showing was better than telling anyways, tangling a hand in Harry’s curls and tugging.

 

That night, neither of them got much sleep, but it was one of the most energizing nights Zayn had had in a long time. He woke up feeling refreshed, even if a little bit sore, Harry’s side of the bed empty, but still warm. He found Harry in his little kitchenette, dancing to Sgt Pepper and doing his best to make breakfast out of the meager offerings Zayn had tucked away. He was wearing a pair of Zayn’s sweats low on his hips, and Zayn just sat in his bed and watched from a distance for a few minutes, enjoying the view. 

 

Harry finally turned around and grinned at him, crooking a finger and asking him to come dance and Zayn obliged, pulling on his underwear and padding across the floor. He laughed as Harry spun him around, hands on his hips as _When I’m 64_ started on the record player.

 

“Stay.” Zayn didn’t know what came over him, what made him say it, but once it was out he found he didn’t regret it. “Really, you should stay.”

 

Harry slowed down their spinning, sliding his hands up Zayn’s back, curling his fingers around Zayn’s shoulder blades. “Alright, I think I’d like that.” 

 

Zayn wrapped his hand around the back of Harry’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss, even though they both tasted like morning. He could get used to this.

 

As it turned out, he got used to it pretty fast. After that morning, Harry just never left, but it was like he’d always been there. Zayn loved coming home from work to see Harry lounged on his threadbare sofa, records spread all over the floor, or better yet, to hear Harry singing along to something as he cooked dinner. Harry had a wonderful voice, rich and deep, and Zayn almost hated to disturb him and make him stop, but the look on Harry’s face when he walked through the door every time was worth it. Zayn’s writing was better than it had ever been, his book filling up with words instead of scribbles and torn out pages, long nights spent watching Harry sleep, the moonlight spilling over his back as the words spilled out of Zayn’s pen onto the page. Everything felt easy, Harry getting along brilliantly with Niall and Zayn’s other friends, and making Zayn’s apartment finally feel like home, instead of just a place he lived, filling it with life and the smells of food better than anything Zayn could even attempt to make.

 

It was that delicious smell that dragged Zayn up the stairs one night just a few weeks later after a long day at the coffee shop, pushing the door open to find Harry dancing around the kitchen, making a huge mess. Zayn just smiled and dropped his bag, sidling up behind Harry to wrap his arms around his waist and press a kiss to the back of his neck. Harry always cleaned up his messes. 

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey, how was work?” Harry set down his spoon and turned in Zayn’s arms, leaning down to kiss him quickly.

 

Zayn shrugged, rolling the tension out of his shoulders and stepping back to let Harry finish cooking. “Same as always. Niall came in though, he has a gig this weekend and wondered if you’d sing with him.”

 

Harry turned, cocking his hip out with a pleased look on his face. “Have you been bragging about me?”

 

“Maybe a little,” Zayn said with a smile. “I also told him he could come for dinner since I know you always make too much. Is that alright?”

 

“Yeah, should be fine.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows as he walked towards Zayn.  
“When’s he coming over? Do I have time to thank you for saying nice things about me?” Harry hooked his fingers into Zayn’s belt loops and pushed Zayn back against the counter, making to drop to his knees.

 

“God, I want to say yes, but he’s going to be here soon.” Zayn turned his head to sniff his own shirt and wrinkled his nose. “And I smell like coffee, so I need to shower. You can thank me later.” He grinned and reached out to swat Harry’s ass as he headed to the bathroom, leaving the door open so he could hear when Harry went back to singing along to The Doors as he finished dinner.

 

Niall was already there by the time Zayn stepped out of the bathroom, his hair hanging damp across his forehead. Zayn just stood back and watched for a second, Niall and Harry having a conversation that was very animated, Niall’s arms waving around, both of them laughing with their whole bodies.

 

“What’d I miss?” Zayn walked over, grinning and wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist.

 

Harry leaned back into the touch, his body warm. “Niall was just telling me about a wild show he played back before he came to America, it sounded amazing!”

 

“The one with all the chickens?” 

 

Niall nodded, reaching out to grab a piece of bread from the cutting board. “‘Course, that’s my best story. Gotta lead with it.” 

 

They ate in the living room in front of the record player, mismatched dishes balanced on their knees. Dinner was delicious, as it always was when Harry cooked it. Zayn had to try not to actually moan as he ate his pasta, which seemed so simple but tasted so good. If Harry was going to keep cooking like this, Zayn thought he might have to look into actually getting a dining table; food like this deserved a real table to eat it off of.

 

“Mate, this is really good.” Niall was wiping his plate clean with a piece of bread, getting every bit of sauce he could. “And you know, I mean it, ‘cause I haven’t said anything since I started eating it.”

 

Harry laughed softly, standing and gathering their empty plates and taking them to the sink. “It’s why Zayn lets me stay here, I don’t know how he ate before.”

 

Niall huffed out a laugh and waggled his eyebrows. “I don’t think that’s the only reason he keeps you around.

 

Harry struck an exaggerated pose on his way back to the living room, cocking his hip out to one side, fluttering his eyelashes and pouting his lips. “Why, whatever do you mean?

 

“You are a man of many talents.” Zayn smiled and patted the cushion next to him, lifting his arm for Harry to crawl underneath.

 

“Speaking of talent, I did come here for more than just a fabulous meal. I hear you sing?” Niall got up from the floor to grab the guitar he’d left by the door, settling back down on Zayn’s ottoman, strumming absentmindedly. “You wanna have a go?”

 

Zayn watched with something like awe as Harry scrambled off the couch, folding his legs underneath him and sitting on the floor in front of Niall. They made a quick list of songs they both knew, which was surprisingly long, and just started making music. It was kind of wonderful, Niall’s clear tone blending beautifully with Harry’s gruffer one, Niall’s fingers playing expertly over the strings of his guitar. Zayn leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and just watched, the two of them making music together so effortlessly it was like they’d been doing it their whole lives. He even found himself humming under his breath, singing along softly when they played something he really loved.

 

It was late when one of them finally looked at a clock, realizing just how lost they’d gotten in the music. “So, I’ll see you at the bar this weekend, yeah?” Niall clicked the latches closed on his guitar case, grinning at Harry.

 

Harry returned the grin, his eyes bright. “Yeah, ‘course you will. That was really great.”

 

“It’d be even better if you could get your boyfriend here to sing with us, it’s a damn shame he keeps that voice to himself.” Niall was smiling though, reaching out to give Zayn and then Harry a quick hug before picking up his guitar. They said a quick goodbye, and then Niall was gone, the door barely shutting behind him before Harry was on Zayn, pushing him backwards.

 

“Harry, what...” Zayn stammered, caught off guard as Harry kept pushing until Zayn’s back finally hit a wall.

 

Harry dropped smoothly to his knees, opening Zayn’s pants with practiced ease and looking up at Zayn with what should have been an innocent smile. “I promised you a thank you, didn’t I?”

 

Zayn wanted to answer, but then Harry’s hand was pulling his cock out of his jeans and his hot mouth was closing around the head, and Zayn forgot anything that wasn’t the perfect pink of Harry’s lips stretched around him and the silky feel of his hair sliding between Zayn’s fingers. He’d have more words later, but for now all he had was _perfect, hot_ and _love_ and that was really all he needed.

 

The summer seemed to go on forever and pass Zayn by in a blur all at once. Nearly every moment he wasn’t working, Zayn was with Harry, spending afternoons on the beach, hanging out in the record shop while Niall tried to work, or long nights tangled up in Zayn’s sheets while the record player spun whatever Harry’s favourite song of the day was. Harry’s clothes hung alongside Zayn’s in the closet and were piled with his on the floor, Harry’s fruity shampoo sitting next to Zayn’s in the shower. Zayn had even gotten used to Harry’s well-worn boots being kicked off right inside the door, and hardly ever tripped over them anymore. Their lives just seemed to slot together so well that Zayn almost couldn’t imagine a time when Harry wasn’t just _there_.

 

Harry and Niall fit together almost as well, and started singing together at least once every week, gaining quite a following by the end of the summer. Zayn loved to sit tucked back in his own corner of whatever bar they were playing in, watching Harry’s face light up as people clapped for him, his cheeks flushing, Zayn knowing he was the one that would get to benefit from all that energy later. Their voices blended so well, and they sounded even better in the bar then they did in Zayn’s living room, Harry’s long fingers curled around the mic, eyes closed as he sang something slow, fingers tapping out the beat on his thigh.

 

Harry and Niall even started writing together, talking excitedly as they both sprawled across Zayn’s floor, Niall with his guitar and Harry scribbling lyrics in a notebook he stole from Zayn. Their songs were good, really good actually, and Zayn’s heart swelled when Harry would whisper the lyrics to him in the dark, tracing them over Zayn’s skin, telling him they were all about him. All the words Zayn had written were about Harry too, every single one of them. He’d filled book after book with poetry and even drawings, sketching Harry’s face or the curve of his back in the spaces between. Harry still appeared over his shoulder, begging to see what Zayn was writing, but Zayn just grinned and closed the book, kissing Harry soundly. He’d show him when it was done, and it was so close. Zayn had never really shared his work with anyone, not even Niall, and he wanted it to be special.

 

The summer started winding down, the tourists going home, the beach getting a bit emptier. The breeze was cool on their skin as it blew through Zayn’s open window and Harry curled himself even tighter against Zayn’s side, his hand spread out across Zayn’s, feeling his heart beat. Harry shifted up and pressed his lips to Zayn’s, kissing him slow and deep. Zayn slid his hands up Harry’s back, curling his fingers around Harry’s shoulders. Harry pulled back, reaching up to push Zayn’s hair back off his forehead and smiled.

 

“What?” Zayn asked, trailing his fingers lightly over the bumps of Harry’s spine.

 

Harry shrugged, settling his hand back onto Zayn’s chest. “Nothing. Just thinking.” He was quiet for a moment, tracing abstract patterns over Zayn’s skin. “About you.”

 

Zayn tilted his head and smiled, twirling his fingers in Harry’s hair. “Good things?”

 

Harry grinned, letting his hand slide lower, stopping to rest low on Zayn’s belly. “Always good things.”

 

Zayn let out a soft sigh and pressed up just a bit into Harry’s touch. “‘M glad to hear it.” He tightened his grip on Harry’s hair and pulled him down for a kiss, swallowing the gasp Harry made as Zayn tugged just a bit harder. It gave Zayn the chance to flip them over, grinning as he smiled down at Harry from his perch straddled across Harry’s lips. He’d never get tired of the sight of Harry’s body stretched out beneath him, all long lines and lean muscle. He leaned forward to reach under the pillow, groping until his fingers closed around the little tub he was looking for. He slicked his own fingers, reaching behind himself to press them against his opening, gasping as they slid inside.

 

Below him, Harry watched with undisguised hunger in his eyes, his fingers gripped tight on Zayn’s hips. Zayn pushed his fingers deeper, arching his back with a gasp at the feeling before pulling them out and wrapping his slick hand around Harry’s cock. They both groaned when Zayn finally slid down onto Harry, sinking deep, the two of them moving together with practiced ease until they collapsed, sweaty and spent against the pillows. Harry fell asleep easily like he always did, his long limbs wrapped loosely around Zayn, holding him close as Zayn drifted off himself.

 

It was early when Zayn got up to open the shop, the first hints of fall chill in the air as her snuck out of bed leaving Harry sprawled under the sheets. He finally felt he was ready to show Harry what he’d written, and he’d spent the last few days making sure it was perfect. He’d copied the poems over into a new book, cutting out the pictures he’d drawn and taping them in, and drawing a few new ones along the way. He had a few finishing touches to add, but he was going to pick up a bottle of wine and show it to Harry tonight. He was nervous, but mostly he was excited to finally have work he felt worthy of sharing, and someone worthy of sharing it with.

 

The day went quickly, Zayn’s excitement pushing him through until he was finally walking up the stairs to his apartment, the finished book in one hand and a bottle of cheap wine in the other. It was quiet in the hall, but Zayn didn’t think anything of it until he opened his door and didn’t hear Harry bustling around in the kitchen or the record player going.

 

“Harry?” Zayn called out, setting the wine and the book on the kitchen counter and furrowing his brow. He looked around the apartment and that’s when he started to notice it. The slightly smaller piles of clothes. The fact that he hadn’t tripped over Harry’s boots as he stepped through the door.

 

“Harry,” he said softer, forcing himself to move slowly as he searched every corner of the apartment for something he now knew wasn’t going to be there. Harry’s clothes were gone from where they’d hung, his worn duffle bag too, and even his fruity shampoo wasn’t on the shelf in the shower where it had been that morning.

 

Zayn’s heart pounded painfully in his chest and it hurt to breathe, his vision swimming when his eyes locked onto the folded piece of paper resting on his pillow, the bed almost neatly made. His fingers were shaking so much he nearly ripped the note unfolding it, and his eyes burned as he fought to hold back tears reading Harry’s words.

 

_Zayn,_

_I’m sorry to do it like this...but I couldn’t look at your face while I said goodbye. This summer has been amazing, but I have to keep moving. It’s just...what I do. I’ll miss you and I’ll think you, and I hope you’ll think of me. Maybe someday we’ll see each other again and you’ll finally let me read something._

_Tell Niall I’ll miss playing with him, and that the songs we wrote together belong to him._

_I won’t forget you._

_Love,  
Harry_

 

Zayn stared at those last few words for a long time, what felt like hours, tears now streaming silently down his cheeks. He wanted to scream or fall to the floor or do anything to make it hurt less, but he knew there was nothing that would do that. His body moved almost without him telling it to, folding the note back up and shoving it deep in his pocket, his feet carrying him out the door and onto the street. It was dark, but Zayn hardly noticed, seeing nothing until he was banging on Niall’s door hard enough to hurt.

 

“Hey, mate, what’s up?” Niall asked when he opened the door, his smile falling as soon as he saw Zayn’s tear-streaked face.

 

Zayn tried to speak, but all that came out was a weak sob as he thrust the note forward into Niall’s hands, slumping against the doorframe.

 

Niall’s eyes scanned the paper, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Fuck...Jesus, Zayn come inside.”

 

Zayn let Niall drag him inside, tears still falling slowly down his cheeks as Niall set him down on the couch, coming back a few minutes later with a mug of hot tea to thrust into Zayn’s hands.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Niall asked softly, sitting down next to Zayn and resting a hand on his thigh.

 

Zayn shook his head, his voice still not cooperating, wrapping his hands around the mug and letting the heat seep into his skin. He leaned into Niall, and when Niall’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him close, he started to cry in earnest, his body wracked with great sobs. Niall held him through all of it, murmuring softly to him, running his hands through Zayn’s hair, and finally, when Zayn had cried himself to sleep, slipping a pillow under his head and tucking a blanket around him.

 

The morning came all too soon, the sun bright and painful against Zayn’s still tear-swollen eyes. Niall was already awake, sitting across from him holding a steaming mug of tea, another mug on the table in front of Zayn. “Morning.”

 

Zayn took a sip of the tea, grateful for the hot liquid soothing his throat. “Morning.”

 

They sat quietly for a few moments, sipping their tea, before Zayn spoke again. “I was going to let him read it. I put it all in a new book and I was going to give it to him last night.”

 

Niall swore under his breath, setting his tea down just a bit too heavily before coming to sit next to Zayn on the sofa. “This is on him, mate. Not you.”

 

Zayn shook his head, staring down at his hands. “How could he just leave like that? I...I loved him. I thought he loved me.” 

 

“I know you did. Do. I’ve never seen you like that with anyone.” Niall pulled Zayn in for another hug, and Zayn gratefully leaned his head onto Niall’s chest. “I don’t know why he left, Zayn, but it’s him that’s fucked up.”

 

Zayn thought to himself that this is why Niall had never seen him like that, why he’d never opened himself to anyone the way he had to Harry. It just hurt too much. He shook his head again, set his tea down on the table and sat up, facing Niall with a determined set to him mouth. “I’m going back to England. I can’t...I can’t stay here. Not now.”

 

“Zayn, mate, are you sure? What are you going to do back there?” Niall looked worried, a wrinkle between his brows that Zayn didn’t like.

 

“Maybe I’ll finally go to school. I don’t know. But I can’t...Everything here...he’s all over it, Niall. Everywhere.” The thought of even going back to his apartment made Zayn’s chest ache, of seeing the bed where they slept, the records they listened to.

 

Niall nodded, his mouth turned down in a slight frown. “If you need anything, I’ll do whatever I can, okay?”

 

Zayn’s eyes welled up with tears again, but for a different reason this time. He reached out and pulled Niall close, hugging him fiercely. “I know, mate. Thank you.”

 

It took a few weeks and a few more bottles of whiskey for Zayn to pack up his apartment, Niall barely leaving his side. In the end, Zayn threw out everything that reminded him of Harry which turned out to be almost everything he owned, his entire life fitting into two duffle bags. He turned the book he’d made for Harry over and over in his hands, the leather cover smooth and cool. He wanted to throw it away, wanted to set it on fire, but he just couldn’t. He shoved the book deep down in one of his bags, burying it under sweaters and shoes, like that would make him forget about it.

 

“You have everything?” Niall asked, standing by the door. He was holding a crate of records he wouldn’t let Zayn get rid of, and Zayn’s stomach clenched at the sight of _Sgt Pepper_ right at the front, remembering how he had Harry had danced to it.

 

Zayn nodded, slinging one bag up over his shoulder, holding the other in his hand. “Yeah. Thanks for helping me, mate. Means a lot.”

 

Niall’s eyes were a little wet, but he smiled through it. “Anything, anytime. You know that. Where’re you staying?”

 

“I wrote my mum. I’m going to crash there for a bit till I get back on my feet.” Zayn walked towards the door, taking one last look around before following Niall into the hall and closing the door behind him. They stood in the hallway for a few moments, both of them quiet before Niall cursed and dropped the crate of records to the floor.

 

“Get over here.” He wrapped Zayn in a fierce hug, and Zayn went willingly, letting his body melt a little against Niall’s. Niall was probably the only thing he was going to miss about living here, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that threatened.

 

“I’ll miss you,” he said, reluctantly letting go. “I’ll send you a letter as soon as I can, yeah? We’ll keep in touch.”

 

Niall nodded, lifting the records back up and started down the stairs. “Course we will. Soon as you’ve got a place I’m coming to crash on your couch and eat your food.”

 

Zayn smiled, stepping out onto the street to where the cab he’d called was waiting. “You better.” After one final hug, Zayn heaved his bags into the cab, and climbed in the back seat, looking out to window as the cab pulled away to see Niall waving. He waved back, smiling even though it hurt a little. The moment was so bittersweet, saying goodbye to Niall and what he’d loved about living here, moving away from the pain Harry had caused him, but moving towards new and hopefully better things. He watched until the cab turned the corner and he couldn’t see Niall anymore, settling back into the seat of the cab and closing his eyes. He had a long trip ahead of him, and he was already worn out, physically and emotionally.

 

_Six Years Later_

 

Zayn flipped up his collar against the biting wind, tucking his chin down into his scarf. It was the coldest day of the year so far, and Zayn sped up his steps, hurrying towards his flat. It was Friday, and he was looking forward to a weekend in, staying warm and trying to make a dent in the stacks of books he had all over the place. He walked along a familiar path, past the shops and pubs he’d walked past every day for the years he’d lived here since he’d finished university and started teaching Literature at one of the colleges. His bag was heavy with books and essays to be graded, but he really loved his work, loved seeing the same passion he’d had for writing starting to grow in his students, no matter how few and far between they were. 

 

As he walked past a pub about a block from his flat, the door swung open. He felt a waft of warm air from inside, but what made him stop in his tracks was what he heard. Above the sounds of the pub he heard clumsy fingers playing over the strings of a guitar, and a voice that made his heart skip a beat.

 

His mouth went dry and he stared at the door of the pub for a long moment, trying to figure out what he wanted to find on the other side. His life was good now, and he was happy. He loved his job, had lots of great friends, got to see his family as often as he wanted. But he also knew, that tucked down deep in the bag he had slung over his shoulder was a worn, leather book that he’d never been able to stop carrying with him, no matter how many times he tried.

 

His heart hammered as he reached for the door, the warmth of the pub enveloping him as he stepped inside. There was quite a crowd inside, and Zayn had to push through a little, but he didn’t need to see the person singing to know it was him. He’d recognize the voice anywhere, even after six years of only hearing it in his head.

 

Harry was sitting on a stool, looking almost exactly as he did in Zayn’s mind, worn white shirt stretched across his wide shoulders, tattered jeans clinging to his long legs. His nimble fingers played over the strings of his guitar and Zayn wondered when he’d learned to play. He was staring and he knew it, his mouth probably hanging open, but once he heard what Harry was singing, he didn’t care what he looked like.

 

_When I get older losing my hair,_  
 _Many years from now,_  
 _Will you still be sending me a valentine_  
 _Birthday greetings bottle of wine?_  


_If I'd been out till quarter to three_  
 _Would you lock the door,_  
 _Will you still need me, will you still feed me,_  
 _When I'm sixty-four?_  


 

It was good luck Zayn was standing near a pillar, because if he hadn’t been, he’d have slid right to the floor when his legs turned to jelly beneath him. That whole summer played over in his mind as Harry sang, images of the beach, their bed, the two of them dancing in Zayn’s kitchen flashing behind his eyes. Harry’s voice was just was rich and warm as he remembered it, but it felt almost more so, like it had matured, gotten just that much deeper. Zayn wrapped his fingers around the strap of his bag, holding on so tight his knuckles went white as Harry finished the song, looking out at the crowd with that wide, bright grin that Zayn had never been able to forget.

 

Harry’s eyes scanned over the crowd as they applauded, and Zayn’s heart stopped the moment Harry’s eyes found his. The smile on Harry’s face dropped off, his eyes growing wide. He just stared at Zayn for what felt like hours but was really barely seconds, the smile coming back onto his face as he told the crowd that was going to be it for today. Zayn wanted to leave, wanted to bolt out the door back into his life and leave this all behind again but he couldn’t, his feet rooted to the floor as he watched Harry pack up his guitar with hands that he thought he could see shaking just a bit.

 

Now that Harry was done playing, the crowd in the pub was starting to thin a bit. A table opened up behind Zayn and he sank down heavily into the chair, pulling his bag into his lap and digging his fingers into the fabric. He couldn’t take his eyes off Harry, who was chatting to someone who’d come up to him to talk about the show, and Harry’s eyes kept flicking over to him as he shifted bit by bit until he could finally step away from the conversation. Zayn’s hands were cold and clammy as Harry walked towards him with a look on his face that Zayn had never seen. It was almost sad, his mouth turned down, his eyes lacking the sparkle that Zayn remembered so well.

 

“Zayn, hi!” Harry’s voice was thick and full of forced cheeriness, his fingers curling around the chair opposite Zayn. “It’s been...awhile.”

 

Zayn looked up, and just looked for a long moment, trying to think of what to say. Six  
years ago he’d have screamed and punched and cried, but now he just gestured to the chair across from him and said, “Hi Harry. Want to sit?”

 

“Zayn, I’m so...” Harry started, talking faster than Zayn had ever heard, but Zayn stopped him.

 

“Hang on. Before we have this conversation...” Zayn rooted around in his bag and pulled out the worn leather book he’d been carrying around, turning it over in his hands. “I put this together for you the night before...the night before. I came home to give it to you, and you were gone. So before we...I think you need to read it.” He pulled a pen out of his bag and opened the book, scrawling his phone number inside the cover.

 

Harry took the book, running his fingers over the cover. “You wrote this?” He looked up at Zayn, and Zayn could read so much in his face he had to look down at his hands.

 

“Most of it during that summer. There’s one at the end, it’s from after.”

 

Harry reached out to rest his hand over Zayn’s, and Zayn wanted to pull away, but he didn’t. He let Harry’s curl around his, staring down at their intertwined fingers as Harry spoke. “I wrote to Niall, you know. But he wouldn’t tell me how to get in touch with you.” Harry paused, letting out a soft laugh that sounded a little pained. “He actually said he’d kill me if I tried, and I kind of believed him.”

 

Niall had never told Zayn that Harry had written, but Zayn had never asked either. Zayn felt himself smile, looking back up at Harry. “Yeah, you should have, he doesn’t mess around.” 

 

“No, I bet he doesn’t.” Harry smiled back at Zayn, just a soft curving of his lips as he squeezed Zayn’s hand.

 

“Call me when you’ve read it, yeah? Then we’ll talk.” Zayn pulled his hand out of Harry’s and pushed his chair back, standing.

 

“Yeah, I’ll call you. Promise.” 

 

They said their goodbyes and Zayn headed for the door. It felt...weird to be walking away, to be leaving Harry sitting at the table. It felt weird, but it actually felt good too. Giving Harry that book and having him finally reading it, it almost didn’t matter if he ever called Zayn. Zayn felt like he’d said his piece now, and he braced himself and headed back out into the cold.

 

Zayn would’ve thought that he’d be up all night, jittery and anxious, but he wasn’t. He fell asleep almost as soon as he got home, and slept soundly until he was woken by his phone ringing. It was early, so early the sun was barely peeking through his curtains, and he stumbled sleepily towards the phone, his voice thick when he answered it.

 

“‘Ello?”

 

“Zayn? It’s Harry. Did I wake you?”

 

Zayn turned around and pressed his back to the wall, clearing his throat. He was definitely awake now. “Um...well, yeah. Yes, you did.”

 

Harry inhaled sharply on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, I really am, but I couldn’t wait. I read your book.” He paused, and Zayn didn’t breathe till he continued. “I stayed up till I finished it, and then I had to wait till it was okay to call.”

 

“It’s...it’s alright. So did you...did you like it then?” Zayn cursed to himself, but couldn’t think of another thing to say.

 

Harry laughed softly, and Zayn could almost hear him nodding. “I called you before the sun was completely up. Yeah, Zayn, I liked it. Loved it.” He was quiet again for a moment, and Zayn clung to the phone, closing his eyes. “I’m glad you were finally ready to share it with me, even if I wasn’t there when you needed me to be. But I’m here now, if you want me to be.”

 

Zayn’s heart hammered in his chest, and he thought he should say no, should slam the phone down and leave Harry hurting, but he couldn’t. “I want you to be,” he breathed out, and it felt like exhaling a breath that he’d been holding for six years.

 

“Where do you live? Can I come over?”

 

Zayn was quiet, thinking about it for a long moment. “Yeah, yeah, you can.” He gave Harry his address and hung up the phone with shaking hands. He looked around his messy apartment, raking a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. There were books piled on every flat surface, dishes filling the sink and laundry he’d been meaning to fold stacked on the couch. He shook his head, and realized it didn’t matter. He set the kettle to boil for tea, and headed to the bathroom for a scalding hot shower.

 

He was feeling more awake by the time he heard a knock at his door, his hair still damp from the shower as he finished his tea. He looked through the peephole, even though he knew who it was, and he remembered what it felt like that first day he’d looked up on the beach and seen Harry standing there. He looked so different, bundled up in a thick wool coat, knit hat flattening down his curls, but he was the same Harry. Zayn opened the door, and Harry smiled at him, bright but careful.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hi,” Zayn answered. “Come on in.”

 

Harry stepped through the door and pulled his hat and coat off, folding them over his arm. “This is a really nice place.”

 

“Thanks. Here, let me...” Zayn reached out, taking Harry’s coat and hanging it on the hook behind the door as Harry toed out of his boots. “Did you want tea? Coffee?” Zayn felt like he was drowning in the small talk, flailing for a handhold.

 

Harry shook his head, and rubbed his hand over his hair, fluffing it back up. “Zayn...I feel like I keep saying this, but I can’t stop. I’m so sorry, I really am.”

 

He looked so sincere, his brow wrinkled in a way Zayn had never seen it, worry spread all over his face. Zayn didn’t like it, hated the way it look on Harry’s beautiful, open face and he stepped closer, closing the distance between them and reaching out, resting a hand on Harry’s arm. “I know you are. I can’t say that it’s okay, because it really wasn’t, but...I know.”

 

It was like they were moving in slow motion, Harry’s hands slowly moving from his own sides and wrapping around Zayn’s back, pulling him close. Zayn went willingly, let Harry pull their bodies together until Zayn’s face was pressed against Harry’s neck, breathing him in. The scent was exactly what Zayn remembered, warm and spicy, and Zayn drank it in, spreading his palms out on Harry’s back and just feeling him. He’d missed this feeling, had gone looking for it, and none of the other men he’d held in his arms had been able to give it to him.

 

“Harry.” Zayn pulled his face away from Harry’s neck, curving a hand around the back of Harry’s head. Harry followed Zayn’s lead and bent forward, making a soft sound in the back of his throat just before their lips touched. Zayn had intended to keep it soft and slow, but he hadn’t anticipated what the touch of Harry’s lips would do to him. Every cell of his body remembered, all firing to life at once, and he was hungry for it. He kissed Harry fiercely, curling his fingers into Harry’s hair and tugging just a little, the way he remembered Harry liked. 

 

Harry groaned into his mouth and kissed back just as fiercely, his big hand framing Zayn’s jaw and tipping his mouth up so he could get deeper. Zayn welcomed it, the taste of Harry’s mouth drugging him, his head spinning. He dug his fingers into Harry’s shoulder blades and tugged, dragging him forward, the two of them stumbling awkwardly through Zayn’s clutter to his bedroom. Zayn almost longed for the days when his whole apartment had been one room with fewer doorways to navigate, but they managed to get all the way to his bedroom without falling, and Zayn counted it as a win.

 

He pushed Harry backwards onto his bed, wanting to get his greedy hands all over Harry’s body, but Harry stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest. 

 

“No, let me show you how sorry I am.” Harry tugged Zyan down onto the bed and guided him back into the pillows. He bent down and kissed Zayn, softly this time, his hands sliding up under Zayn’s shirt, pushing it up and over his head. Harry’s shirt soon followed, and Zayn gasped when their bare chests finally pressed together, his heart racing out of control.

 

They would talk more later, they needed to, but right now Zayn needed to feel Harry’s hands on his body, the heat and strength of him. He ached everywhere, a deep down ache but Harry’s touch was everything he needed, soothing and inflaming him at the  
same time. 

 

Harry pulled his mouth away from Zayn’s, breathless. “God, Zayn, I need you so bad, missed you.” Harry ran his hands down Zayn’s chest, leaving one of them to rest over Zayn’s jack-hammering heart. “Love you.” 

 

“Love you too. Always did.” He gasped as Harry kissed a hot path down his throat, sucking a hot mark into the sensitive spot just beneath his ear. Harry kept kissing lower, his fingers already working Zayn’s pants open as he moved, shoving them down over Zayn’s hips. Zayn shifted around until he could kick them off, and he’d barely settled back into the pillows before Harry’s mouth was on his dick, wasting no time.

 

Harry hadn’t forgotten a thing about what Zayn liked, his tongue pressing against all the right places to have Zayn squirming, just the right pressure to drag him close to the edge and keep him there. Zayn rested his hand on Harry’s head, twisting his fingers into Harry’s hair and just hanging on. It’s not like he’d been celibate for the last six years, far from it really, but he hadn’t been with anyone long enough for them to learn him as inside out as Harry had managed to in the few months they’d spent together. Harry knew just how to take him apart and put him back together, and Zayn could feel himself falling.

 

He tightened his fingers in Harry’s hair, groaning and fighting the urge to push deeper into Harry’s mouth, to get more of that perfect wet heat around him. Harry anticipated him though, sliding lower, taking as much of Zayn’s cock into his mouth as he could and Zayn drew in a sharp breath when he felt the head of his cock bumping against the back of Harry’s throat. He tugged on Harry’s hair, warning him that he was close, but Harry just groaned around him and stayed put, redoubling his efforts to drive Zayn wild.

 

“Harry, Harry, I’m close,” Zayn panted, his tongue darted out to moisten his dry lips. 

 

Harry pulled off, his mouth red and swollen as he grinned. “I know, just let me.” His voice was wrecked and Zayn just nodded, biting his lip to try and keep quiet as Harry slid his mouth back down Zayn’s cock.

 

It didn’t take long to bring Zayn right back to the edge, his stomach tight and his heart racing, almost desperate to tip over into the abyss. What finally did it was the touch of Harry’s fingers brushing over Zayn’s hole, dry and soft at first, but harder when Zayn gasped and pushed down against the touch. Harry brought his fingers to his mouth and shoved them in alongside Zayn’s cock, getting them nice and wet before bringing them back between Zayn’s leg. His touch was hot and slick now, and Zayn let his legs fall farther apart, shifting his hips until Harry pressed his fingers inside, stretching him open.

 

Zayn tried to moan but had no breath, his senses totally overwhelmed by Harry, feeling like he was being touched everywhere all at once. He curled in on himself when he came, hard and fast, Harry’s fingers pressing even deeper inside him as he did, his mouth sinking lower on his cock, working him until Zayn was shaking, panting out soft moans.

 

He tasted himself on Harry’s tongue when Harry came up to kiss him, and the taste made his blood burn even a little bit hotter. He was spent, limp against the bed but he still wanted, _needed_ , and he could feel Harry hard through the jeans he was still wearing, just as needy. He tugged weakly at Harry’s waistband, his fingers not cooperating as he struggled with the button, swearing under his breath until it finally popped open. He shoved Harry’s jeans down with one hand and got the other inside, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s dick.

 

Harry groaned against Zayn’s neck, his hips thrusting forward into Zayn’s grip. He let Zayn stroke him a few times before he pulled away with a shaky breath, pushing Zayn’s hand away and kicking his jeans the rest of the way off. “I’m not done with you yet.” His grin was filthy as he slid down Zayn’s body, and Zayn’s cock twitched, already trying to get hard again. He settled down between Zayn’s legs, pushing them wide open. Zayn felt so exposed, Harry looking at him like he was something delicious, but it just made him ache for Harry to touch him again, to push inside of him.

 

He didn’t have to wait long for the touch of Harry’s fingers to return, slick from his mouth again as they pushed inside. Zayn almost sighed, tilting his hips up just a little, already wanting more. He wasn’t expecting Harry to bend low and swipe his tongue over Zayn’s hole, teasing around the edge and then pushing in between his fingers, filthy and wet. Zayn nearly shouted, his hands fisting in the bedspread, his cock twitching to full hardness.

 

“Oh fuck, Harry, fuck.” Harry’s tongue pushed deep into him then swept over the rim of his hole, setting every nerve ending on fire. Zayn had never felt anything like it, hot and warm and wet and just the perfect amount of pressure in all the right places. He felt slick and slippery and stretched wide open, Harry pushing in three and then four fingers, twisting them deep, his tongue soothing away the stretch.

 

Zayn was babbling, mostly incoherent cursing and nonsense, his cock achingly hard against his belly. He needed more, needed Harry inside him, but he never wanted the hot-wet press of Harry’s tongue to stop, didn’t want to lose the wide stretch of Harry’s fingers even for a moment. Harry pushed his fingers in just that little bit deeper, the press of his thumb stroking around Zayn’s open a tease and a promise and Zayn groan, deep  
and guttural. 

 

“Please, please fuck me,” Zayn moaned, his voice breathless and reedy, almost unrecognizable, even to himself.

 

Harry didn’t make him wait this time, his eyes wild with lust, his mouth and chin glistening when he pulled away. He pulled his fingers form Zayn’s hole slowly, and Zayn whimpered, the emptiness feeling like so much in that moment, but Harry was quick. He shimmied up the bed, hooking one of Zayn’s legs over his shoulder and then he was pushing in, his fat, gorgeous cock opening Zayn up and sliding deep and easy. Zayn’s hole was soft and slick from Harry’s tongue and fingers, giving almost no resistance. Both of them gasped and sighed when Harry bottomed out, the feeling everything Zayn had remembered and even more. Harry moved over him with practiced ease, swirling his hips in little circles, staying deep inside Zayn until he couldn’t handle it anymore and pulled almost all the way out. 

 

He slammed into Zayn hard and fast, rocking Zayn’s bed against the wall. Zayn moaned out Harry’s name and urged him on, the brutal pace feeling like just the thing he needed, shaking things loose inside him that had hung on for too long. He threw one hand over his head to hang onto the headboard and brought the other to rest on Harry’s chest, his fingertips curving in just enough to scrape his nails over Harry’s heated skin, feeling his heart pounding.

 

Harry bent low to capture Zayn’s lips in a hard, deep kiss filled with teeth and tongue. Zayn was bent nearly double, his leg stretched back where it was pulled over Harry’s shoulder, but the new angle made him clamp down tighter around Harry’s cock, and he moaned into Harry’s mouth, his dick jumping between their bellies as he came again, his whole body buzzing and over-sensitive. His muscles were tense and weak all at the same time, and he felt himself sinking deeper into the bed, Harry still fucking into him relentlessly.

 

It almost ached, that kind of ache that hurts but feels so good at the same time and Zayn panted through it, unable to remember the last time he felt so thoroughly wrecked. Harry was starting to fall apart above him, panting against Zayn’s cheek, his thrusts starting to get erratic. In that moment, Zayn wanted to feel it, wanted Harry to come inside him again like he’d wanted almost nothing else in his life. He arched his back and pushed his hips down, pulling Harry deeper inside him and squeezing his muscles around Harry’s cock until Harry let out a shaky moan, cursing.

 

“Zayn, god, you’re perfect. So perfect.” Harry ran his fingers clumsily over the side of Zayn’s face, tracing his cheekbone down to his jaw, curling his fingers there and tipping his mouth up to kiss him. The kiss was almost sweet, as gentle as Harry could manage, everything slowing down as Harry buried himself deep in Zayn and came, shuddering and sighing into Zayn’s mouth. Zayn felt the slickness inside him, the warmth of it, and he loved it, clenching his muscles just a bit to try and keep it inside him as Harry slid out.

 

Harry kissed him softly on the nose and assured him he’d be back before climbing off the bed. Zayn watched through heavy lids as Harry navigated the unfamiliar apartment, finding the bathroom and returning with a damp cloth to clean up Zayn’s belly and the mess between his legs. Harry tossed the flannel onto the bedside table and climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up over them and tangling his limbs together with Zayn’s. He fit in Zayn’s arms just as well as he always had, and Zayn stroked his hands down Harry’s back, played his fingers through Harry’s hair.

 

Harry tilted his face up to grin at Zayn, leaning in to kiss him with the smile still on his face. His smile was a bit softer when he pulled back, warm and comfortable, and Zayn wanted to wrap himself in the smile. “Should we...” Harry gestured randomly, wiggling his hand around. “Talk about this?”

 

Zayn nodded, pushing a piece of hair back from Harry’s forehead. “Yeah, we should. But later. I think we should sleep first, _someone_ woke me up at the crack of dawn on my day off and then wore me out.”

 

Harry laughed, bright and easy, snuggling easily down into the blankets. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

 

It didn’t take long for Harry to fall asleep, the sound of his deep, regular breathing filling the room. Zayn just listened to him, the sound of it and the warmth of Harry in his arms start pulling him back towards sleep. He almost didn’t want to let sleep take him, wanted to relish in the feeling of Harry sleeping in his arms again, but he couldn’t fight it for long, closing his eyes and holding Harry close.

 

They spent most of that day in bed, dozing even as the sun rose higher in the sky, only getting out when their growling stomachs demanded it. Even then, they stuck close together, Harry pressing his chest against Zayn’s back as Zayn stirred soup on the stove, or twining their fingers together as they both ate one handed. They played catch-up, Harry asking about Zayn’s sisters, and Niall, and Zayn asking where Harry had ended up, and if his life had slowed down.

 

At that question, Harry got a little quiet, and Zayn knew that the talk was finally going to happen, and he was almost dreading it. He wanted to forget what Harry had done, at least for today, to push it back into the deepest recesses of his mind.

 

“I regretted it, you know. Almost right away.” Harry looked up at Zayn, the sadness evident in his eyes. “I left because I always leave. Always left.” He waved his hand around a bit, like he was clearing smoke from the air. “I never meant to hurt you. For me, it was always supposed to be a summer thing, and even when it became more...I got scared, and just stuck to the plan and left.”

 

He was quiet again, and Zayn squeezed his hand in encouragement, because he didn’t think he could speak right now. “I almost came back, almost right away but I knew I’d hurt you and I couldn’t...didn’t want to see. It was a while after, a few months, that I wrote to Niall. I still have what he wrote me back, it was so...colourful, I couldn’t throw it out.”

 

They both laughed at that, soft and little watery, but Harry kept going. “When I came back here, I thought about looking you up, trying to find you. But it had been so long, I didn’t know where to start.”

 

“I don’t know if I’d have been ready for it before now.” Zayn shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face. “No, I definitely wouldn’t have been ready before now.”

 

Harry smiled, the light coming back to his eyes. “Then it’s a good job you were walking past that pub right at that moment, isn’t it?”

 

Zayn smiled back, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Harry’s lips, tasting tomato soup. “It really is. Just promise me that if you get scared, you’ll talk to me before...”

“I promise,” Harry interrupted, wrapping his hand around the back of Zayn’s neck and pulled him back for a lingering kiss. “But I think you’re stuck with me now.”

“I think I’m okay with that.” Zayn grabbed Harry’s hand and dragged him back towards the bedroom. Now that they weren’t hungry anymore, there were better ways to spend the rest of the day.

 

After their talk, things were good. They weren’t perfect of course, but nothing ever is. Zayn would never forget how Harry left him, and there were still mornings where he panicked when he found Harry’s side of the bed empty before hearing the sound of the shower or smelling breakfast cooking on the stove. Every time he panicked, Harry was there with a kiss and a reassurance that this time he wasn’t going anywhere, and gradually they relaxed into a rhythm that fit like an old t-shirt.

 

It took Zayn a few weeks to get up the nerve, but eventually he sat down and wrote Niall a letter, telling him everything that had happened. Niall had been the one that had to pick Zayn up and put all the pieces back together after Harry left all those years ago, and Zayn was nervous that he wouldn’t be happy to hear Harry was back. Hell, part of Zayn was worried that he’d make good on his threat, and if not kill him, at least rough him up a bit. What he didn’t expect was to open his door one day and find Niall standing there grinning, with a tall, gorgeous guy standing behind him, a shy smile on his face.

 

“Niall!” Zayn shouted, throwing his arms around Niall’s neck and pulling him through the door. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I got your letter, figured I should just come and make sure everything was alright.” He cast a glance around the apartment, tossing his bag on the floor and reaching back to grab the hand of the guy behind him. “This is Liam, by the way. We met surfing in Australia.” 

 

Liam wrapped one arm around Niall’s shoulder, reaching the other out to shake Zayn’s hand. “Sorry for the surprise. Niall said it’d be alright.” He looked a bit chagrined by the whole thing, but Zayn just laughed and closed the door behind them.

 

“No, it’s fine. It would be more of a surprise if Niall called ahead.” Zayn looked Liam up and down, turning to shoot Niall a subtle thumbs up.

 

Niall grinned, looking very proud of himself indeed. He stepped further into the apartment and looked around, whistling softly. “This is a nice place, mate. Really nice.”

 

Zayn shrugged, smiling. “I like it.”

 

Niall stepped close to Liam, leaning against him when Liam draped his arm over Niall’s shoulders. Zayn’s smile stretched a little wider at the sight; he couldn’t remember if he’d even seen Niall quite like this, and he liked it. His smile faltered a little when Niall looked at him seriously, his voice careful. “So...where is he?”

 

“He went to the market. It’s his night to make dinner.” Zayn paused, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not going to...hit him or anything, right?”

 

Niall pursed his lips, considering. “Not right away, anyways. I’ll give him a chance.” He smiled then, stepping forward to squeeze Zayn’s arm. “Seriously, I just want to make sure you’re okay. That he’s okay.” 

 

Zayn didn’t say anything to that, just pulled Niall in for a hug and held on tight. When they pulled apart, Zayn rubbed his hand over his face, laughing a little. “Alright, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way...” He gestured to the living room, the three of them moving to sprawl out on Zayn’s furniture. “Tell me how you guys met.” Liam and Niall shared a funny look, and Liam’s cheeks as Niall burst out into laughter. Zayn settled in, knowing he was in for another great Niall-story, and man, he’d missed those.

 

They’d lost track of time, telling stories and laughing till they were nearly crying, and Zayn started when he heard Harry’s key turning in the lock. He jumped to his feet and tried to make it to the door before Harry stepped through it, but he didn’t quite get there.

 

“Zayn, I’m - NIALL!” Harry shouted, his voice getting a bit high, the bag of groceries he was carrying slipping from his arms and nearly crashing to the floor. Zayn did manage to get there in time to save dinner, at least. 

 

“Niall showed up a few hours ago, surprised me! That’s Liam, his boyfriend.” Zayn set the groceries aside and wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Niall promised he wouldn’t hit  
you?”

 

Harry laughed, a little awkwardly, shrugging out of his coat. He made his way across the room to Niall, sticking his hand out. “It really is nice to see you. I’ve missed making music with you.”

 

Niall looked up at him for a few moments, and Zayn could see him thinking, Niall’s lips pressed into a line as the wheels turned. Eventually, he must have come to a decision, maybe seeing something he was looking for in Harry’s eyes because he stood, taking Harry’s hand and pulling him him for a hug, slapping his hand on Harry’s back. “Same, mate. Same.”

 

Zayn would have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t nervous watching the exchange. After all these years, Niall was still the best friend he’d ever had, and he trusted his opinion more than anyone elses. Watching the look on his face soften made Zayn relax, knowing that even if Niall wasn’t ready to totally forgive Harry, at least he was ready to try.

 

The hours passed easily, the four of them falling into an easy rhythm of trading stories, both old ones and new ones. Harry made dinner for all of them, always ready to cook for a crowd, and as it started to get dark, Zayn opened a few bottles of wine for them to pass around. They drank until they were warm and loose, sinking deep into Zayn’s furniture. Niall had his head in Liam’s lap, Liam’s fingers playing through Niall’s sun-bleached hair, and Zayn couldn’t help but grin from his own position pressed up against Harry’s side, Harry’s fingers just barely underneath the hem of  
his t-shirt.

 

It was Niall that brought it up first, stumbling a bit as he headed to where he and Liam had dropped their stuff, coming back with his old, worn guitar. He started to play softly, his voice warm and familiar, and it didn’t take long for Harry to join in. Zayn’s heart hammered a bit harder at the sound of them singing together again, their voices blending so seamlessly, you’d never know it had been years. 

 

He was a bit startled when Liam joined in too, his voice rich and deeper than he’d expected, Liam’s hands resting on Niall’s shoulders, digging in just a bit. Zayn found himself tapping out the rhythm on his thigh, listening to the three of them singing together like they’d been doing it their whole lives, and he finally gave in. Harry stopped singing for a moment when Zayn started, Zayn’s voice soft at first, but building up to match everyone else. Harry squeezed Zayn’s thigh and grinned at him, wide and happy before joining back in. Zayn had forgotten how good it felt to sing, almost as good as it felt to write, really.

 

They sang until the wee hours, taking turns picking the song, both Harry and Liam having a go at plucking out a tune on the guitar. It wasn’t until Harry slumped against Zayn’s side, heavy with sleep that they finally decided to go to bed, almost as if there was a spell they were afraid to break. Zayn stood, turning to heave Harry up at guide him to bed, but Niall stopped him.

 

“Wait, hang on a second.” Niall grabbed Zayn’s arm and guided him away from the couch, just far enough that neither Harry or Liam would hear them if they spoke softly. “You’re sure?”

 

Zayn looked back at Harry, limbs loose with sleep, draped messily over the couch. He smiled, soft and warm. “I’m sure.”

 

Niall nodded, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Then I’m sure too. I’m happy for you mate, he always was it for you, wasn’t he?”

 

Zayn nodded, still looking at Harry. “He was. I tried...but it never worked, because no one else was him.”

 

Niall pulled Zayn in for a bone-crushing hug, pressing his lips to Zayn’s ear. “But I mean it, I will kill him if he hurts you again.”

 

Zayn laughed, still hanging onto Niall. “I know it, and so does he. I think you scare him as much as he likes you.”

 

“Good, never underestimate an Irishman.” Niall stepped back, giving Zayn a fond smile.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” They both stood for a moment, watching Harry slip lower on the couch, and watching Liam’s head bob as he fought to stay awake. “We’d better get them to bed. The couch pulls out, I’ll get you guys some blankets.”

 

Having gotten Liam and Niall set up on the sofa bed, Zayn heaved Harry to his feet and guided him to his own bedroom, tugging his jeans and shirt off and helping him into bed. Harry was mostly asleep, but he woke up just a bit when Zayn climbed in next to him, wrapping his arms around Zayn and pulling him close, burying his face in Zayn’s hair.

 

“‘S Niall gonna kill me?” Harry slurred sleepily, his voice thick.

 

Zayn laughed softly, turning in Harry’s arms so he could look at him, Harry’s face soft except for the little wrinkle of worry between his brows. Zayn stroked it away, bending to kiss Harry’s lips. “No, he’s not. Promise.”

 

“Good.” Harry stroked a hand clumsily up Zayn’s back, cupping the back of his neck and pulled him in for a lazy kiss. “Love you.”

 

“Love you too.” Zayn rested his head on Harry’s chest and traced lazy patterns on his bare skin. Things were good, so good he almost didn’t want to think too hard about them, so he didn’t. Niall was happy for him, sleeping soundly in Zayn’s living room wrapped around his own wonderful boyfriend, and Harry was in his bed, warm and solid and here to stay. Zayn had everything he’d ever wanted, and he fell asleep with a smile on his face to the sound of Harry’s deep, regular breathing. This was _home_.


End file.
